About ‘Simmerdim’
This song provided me with the creative spark that brought the Simmerdim: Curlew Sounds album project to life. The lyrics explore my memories of curlews calling out in the ‘simmerdim’ - the night-long twilight found in the Northern Isles around midsummer, and their annual movements from the coast to their inland nesting grounds and back. The song also touches upon elements of curlew folklore. As well as reflecting the seasonal cycles of life, death and song that I associate with curlews, I wanted to turn the British folktale of the ‘Seven Whistlers’ - in which the sound of curlews is seen as a bad omen - on its head. In ‘Simmerdim’, the Seven Whistlers are welcoming rather than foreboding, offering a pathway to peace and introspection, as Seamus Heaney hinted at with the sound of “a curlew high above the runway” in his poem, ‘From the Republic of Conscience’.
Lyrics
Well I heard the curlew was a bad omen
And I’ve rarely heard a stranger thing
For there’s a path that opens through conscience
When they’re calling out, caught in the simmerdim
And this time of year I miss the feeling
The nights were once sure to bring
When I’d lie awake with the windows open
With an urge to set out and take their voices in
And sure, there’s a part that’s haunting
How the past finds ways back in
But it’s just how life recycles
From the marshes they rise again
And their songs swim towards the surface
And bubble up over the brim
But sounds live on after sounding
And ideas aren’t bound by the skin
And soon the fields again fall silent
And the Devil’s Bit starts setting in
Before the dark unrolls
I start to long for the simmerdim
And high above the runway
You’ll hear the seven whistlers welcoming
Return to cycles of simmerdim.
Credits
Words and music by Merlyn Driver
Performed by:
Merlyn Driver (vocals, guitar)
Nathan Riki Thomson (prepared upright bass)
Mixed by Mikko H. Haapoja
Mastered by Simon Scott
About Simmerdim: Curlew Sounds (2022)
‘Simmerdim: Curlew Sounds’ is a double album, multi-artist project of newly-commissioned works and soundscapes, inspired by one of the UK's most iconic and endangered birds, the Eurasian curlew. The album was supported by the RSPB, and all net proceeds from the album go towards the RSPB’s curlew conservation efforts. The cover art was created by Tara Okon.
The idea for this album emerged from a new song, ‘Simmerdim’, inspired by my childhood memories of curlews in Orkney. In the course of my research, I discovered the wealth of folklore, poetry, and music that curlews have inspired, and came to realise the scale of their recent struggles. In some parts of the UK, curlew numbers have crashed by more than 60% and they are now on the Birds of Conservation Concern Red List. The prospect of losing curlews from the UK countryside drove me to assemble other creative responses to this iconic bird, specifically to raise funds and awareness for its conservation. After securing crucial support from the RSPB, I reached out to various musicians who were either UK-based or from countries where some of ‘our’ curlews migrate to and from, such as Norway and Finland, and asked them to create new music inspired by the curlew. This resulted in some fantastic contributions from Talvin Singh, David Gray, The Unthanks, Tiny Leaves, Cosmo Sheldrake, Camilla George and Tamar Osborn, Emily Barker, Puuluup, El Buho (feat. David Rothenberg), Marja Mortensson and Daniel Herskedal, and Tuuletar (as well my song , which features Nathan Riki Thomson on double bass).
For Disc II, I travelled the length and breadth of the United Kingdom, collecting recordings of curlews at five Curlew LIFE project locations, all of which were selected due to their importance for breeding curlews; Geltsdale and Hadrian’s Wall (England), Ysbyty Ifan and Hiraethog (Wales), Insh Marshes (Scotland), Loch Erne Lowlands, and Antrim Plateau (Northern Ireland). The RSPB-managed Curlew LIFE project aims to stabilise curlew breeding populations within these landscapes by 2024. With the help of my sister, Fiona, I also collected curlew recordings from near our childhood home in Orkney, still a stronghold for curlews, despite numbers halving in my lifetime.
Without curlews we would suffer much more than a loss of biodiversity. Their absence, and the absence of their sounds, would cut off pathways for imagination, conscience and feelings. I hope that this project will contribute in a small way to their protection.
Read more about the project via curlewsoundsproject.org
Listen and buy the album via Bandcamp
Listen via Spotify